No Good Deed
by anais mark
Summary: Gatsbyward and the one that got away.
1. Chapter 1

The Twilight Saga and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer

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><p>Show me a hero and I will write you a tragedy.<p>

~ F. Scott Fitzgerald, _Notebooks_

Ж

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><p><strong>Alabama ~ October, 1916<strong>

Five pairs of shoes stood guard on the end of the Brandons' dock.

The five youngsters belonging to them had withdrawn from the party, their uncharacteristic absence from any festivity unnoticed by most of the partygoers.

None of the two hundred guests celebrating Jasper Whitlock's commission as an officer in the United States Navy—and his proposal that very evening to Alice Brandon—had any idea that he'd snuck out right under their noses.

Most of the homes on that stretch of the bay were summer homes for locals or winter homes for rich northerners. The twinkling lights of the Brandons' soiree quickly yielded to the currently uninhabited darkness.

Alice and Jasper's parents had brought in champagne just for this occasion. It had arrived from New Orleans the day before.

They knew that Jasper would propose; he'd asked for Mr. Brandon's blessing only days ago. No one doubted Alice would say "yes." But because they were uncertain if they would ever be granted the mercy of a wedding for their children—for more than a year, the rest of the world seemed to be pulling America into a foreign war—they celebrated while the opportunity presented itself.

The entire evening had seemed enchanted.

Each of the five friends had brought something to contribute to their private engagement. Jasper was a gift in and of himself. He felt certain he would be taken away from them and they didn't pretend that this last bit of Indian summer with him wasn't precious. Nevertheless, he held a bottle of champagne determinedly by the neck. _This __**is**__ a celebration, by God_, he thought.

With equal decision, he held Alice Brandon by the waist. Since the Brandons purchased the property on the bay, Jasper and Alice had been pained to be parted for even a moment. Occasionally, it bordered on nauseating.

That night, it was heart-wrenching.

Pressed into her tiny hand, the hand now blessed with sapphires and the approval of every eye at the party, was her parting gift to him: an old-fashioned pocket watch with her photo and a lock of her ebony hair inside.

Bella Swan, holding Alice's free hand in her own, had an odd assortment of items in her pockets. Among them was a flask of brandy—Jasper's favorite—and a tightly folded note. She threw a glance and a smile over her shoulder every few steps to make sure their group didn't lose one of its number.

A very specific one of its number.

Alice wondered with which of the two boys Bella was preoccupied. She had an idea.

Emmett McCarty, a walking celebration himself, knew exactly what to bring. In his suit jacket were hidden the tools to break into the Islers' home and a flask of whisky.

Straggling even farther behind, and downcast for more than one reason, was Edward Cullen.

Always the maids' favorite, he carried a bag of fried shrimp, crusty bread and sweets one of them had smuggled out to him. The only payment she'd required was a crooked, dimpled grin from the beautiful child and a promise to return safely.

He'd exchanged presents with Jasper already.

Jasper's thoughts buzzed as they walked the sandy waterfront, the water idly lapping at his toes. Every hour or two he reconsidered his commission; his doubts were running right on schedule.

Did the Navy really need one more officer? The United States hadn't declared war just yet; maybe it could be avoided.

Alice let go of Bella's hand to tug on Jasper's shirt. "Mr. Whitlock? I'm right here, darling boy. No need to daydream about me." She turned to press a kiss into his chest. It was convenient that her mouth was at the same altitude as his heart.

"Of course. It's a habit now, you know."

"Something else we have in common then."

Emmett rolled his eyes and shot out ahead of the group. "I'm going to get the door open. See you fellas in a second."

Edward increased his pace for a few steps so he could fall into stride with the lovely Miss Swan. She heard his approach and slowed, leaning to meet him. Their arms brushed against one another.

She leaned back in and bumped him. He reciprocated.

Wordless had become their habit recently. She needed a ride into town; he and Jasper appeared at just the right time. She looked for the cream and he was already handing it to her. She couldn't stand another minute of the lovebirds; Edward arrived to whisk them away in his little sailboat.

At that moment, she needed to feel like the world wasn't spinning so fast that it would sling her to the stars and the gravity of his presence grounded her just enough for comfort.

They carefully kept their hands to themselves. At her tender age of sixteen, touching seemed so forbidden.

Every boy wanted to know what it was that made sweaters curve so invitingly but exploring so much as their hems seemed impossible.

What girl didn't want to be kissed breathless beneath the moonlight? It was just so difficult to know how to hint that it was copasetic without seeming like a trollop.

Silently pondering life's mysteries, they walked in step, only their shoulders occasionally kissing.

Alice and Jasper kept their heads forward, willing the two would-be sweethearts to figure it out. Bella wasn't worried about losing Emmett at all, it appeared.

Jasper hoped that his new friend would get as many months with Bella as he could before he found himself going off to war as well. He expected it to happen any day.

Alice was thinking the same thing.

Ж

The old summer house was empty and Emmett had been charged with maintaining the grounds by his father. It was punishment for taking Rosalie Hale to a speakeasy.

Well, punishment for his dad finding out. It was never the doing that would get you in trouble. It was always the getting caught.

Alabama was "bone dry," despite its new governor's best efforts. A good time was not easy to come by, between that and the war.

Emmett had grown used to making his own fun.

He pried open the French doors leading to the veranda and boat dock, swinging the doors wide open as if he were giving his friends all of Mobile Bay and the world beyond instead of just borrowing someone else's view.

The jasmine winding around the pillars was older than any of the five of them. It was just starting to bloom and perfume the balmy air. The scent crept into the house, slow and thick.

They sat inside and reminisced. This was the sunset of their childhood—even at their young age they knew it. The world was a different place than it had been just two summers before.

Alice took a swallow of champagne from the bottle that the girls were passing between them. "Emmett, do you remember introducing Rosie to us?"

"Oh, do I ever. I've never hated a person so thoroughly as I did her. She was just awful to me."

Bella coughed, choking on her bubbly drink. "Her? Emmett, you should be ashamed, trying to lie to all of us like that! We were witness to her being 'awful.' She called you out in front of Lois Winter for kissing Inez Winter earlier that night. You were just mad that both sisters gave you the boot."

Jasper chuckled. "It's too bad she was only here for the summers. She never got chance to warm up to you, Em."

Ж

They walked to the end of the Islers' old dock and slipped their feet in the bay. Edward just knew that heaven was a place very much like this. The angels could only hope to look like Isabella Swan.

Bella dropped an oyster shell into the water. The ripples glowed.

The other four smiled.

Their bay was inhabited by creatures like tiny, water-bound fireflies. And just like lightning bugs, they lit up when you alarmed them.

Bella stretched forward to drop another oyster shell straight down and enjoy the best vantage of the resulting glow. Edward grabbed her waist, unaware that she had purposely put herself in the precarious position of leaning out over the water.

What could be the harm in a little extra safety? She could find none and said nothing about his grip. Nor the things it did to her breathing.

As soon as he had her securely in his grasp, he understood that she hadn't been in danger of pitching into the water. She didn't have any forward or downward momentum. And yet, she didn't object to the almost-embrace.

She lingered in her examination of the sinking oyster shell, watching it meander down like a feather long after the water had lost its tinge of light. She never saw it reach its bed, but that wasn't the reason she kept looking.

Edward realized that, aside from her filmy dress and his greedy fingers, nothing else was cinching her waist. His hands spanned from rib to hipbone and, in their slow-motion release of Miss Swan, they memorized the lay of the land.

She memorized the satiny friction, warm and insistent, because she didn't know what else to do with the novel cocktail.

For a shimmering moment, she forgot where she was.

She planted her hands firmly on either side of her hips and let the dizzying sensations calm; he did the same.

When he placed his hand on the wooden slats, his pinkie, guided by the most primitive form of gravity, linked itself to hers. Neither of them shifted.

On the other end of the dock, Alice curled into Jasper's side, her tiny torso fitting neatly into his like a bird in a nest.

Once again, they began to tell stories. But instead of telling old stories, stories that Edward had no place in, they recounted their golden summer.

Rosalie had joined their group now that her older sisters were all married. Bella hadn't ever been allowed so much freedom as when Alice's cousin Emmett stayed with them. The Swans hoped he and Bella might become more than friends and loved that the overgrown boy intimidated lesser specimens his own age. Emmett and Jasper hadn't ever been as interested in spending time with the girls as they had been in the last few months. And Edward hadn't spent any summers with the privileged youth on the bay before this one.

The six of them had aligned their orbits for the first time.

So they had as many stories from those last few months—jumping from docks and sneaking out to swim when it was just too hot to sleep and tiptoeing out the back of the noisy speakeasy in Mobile when Emmett's father strode in the front—as they had from all their years of sharing this stretch of bay every summer before.

And there would be no more summers like this one.

Edward crossed two of his fingers over Bella's.

She neither rebuffed nor encouraged the advance.

Edward realized that someone was missing from their stolen moment. "Why didn't Rosie walk down here with us, Emmett? We wanted her to come. I mean, I know she hasn't been around long but we won't hold it against her that you did the introduction."

He smiled broadly at Edward. "Thank you kindly, sir, but I believe Bella gets that dubious honor. Anyway, her Daddy has his eye on her around me. He thinks I'm trouble."

That got a chuckle out of everyone. And a chorus of feigned shock.

Emmett continued, "I'll give it to him, he's no fool. And that daughter of his…she's something else."

Bella asked too-sweetly, "The good kind of 'something else,' right? I'm left to assume since you aren't divulging any details."

"Oh, I can give you 'details,' if that's what you're lookin' for, Isabella Swan."

Bella clucked. "Only the gentlemanly kind, Em."

He batted his lashes like a debutante considering her first proposal. "Are there any other kind?"

Bella wanted to reach over and swat at him but four of Edward's fingers were laced into hers and that seemed more important.

She settled for glaring at him.

Emmett was suddenly serious. "If I go to Europe, I'll ask her to be Mrs. McCarty before I go."

Jasper hugged his friend. "I had no idea, you scamp. How long has this been going on?"

"I guess it's always been going on. We fight a little, make up a little…it just took the possibility of never getting to fight with her again to make me realize that I don't want her making up with anybody else. If you know what I mean."

They all expressed their surprise and congratulations.

Bella and Edward each murmured something appropriate. All they noticed was their own hands, now clasped tightly between them.

Only Alice would be so bold as to say, "It will be a lovely wedding, Em. Rosalie will be the prettiest bride anyone's ever seen."

"Yes, well. Let's just hope she's _my_ bride. I don't think there's a shortage of alternatives."

It occurred to Jasper that celebrating their past had been a delight but their purpose on that night was properly greeting their futures.

And Emmett's future was probably warding off every yahoo from New Orleans to Savannah while his friends were drinking champagne a quarter of a mile away.

So Jasper offered, "Let's go check on the future Mrs. McCarty, shall we?"

"Aw, y'all can stay if you want. I'll go back by myself."

As much as it pained them to separate their fingers, Bella and Edward knew that getting back before their absence was noticed was the better idea.

Edward took one more opportunity to slide his hands around Bella, encircling her waist as he helped her up.

She turned to face him so that his fingers danced along her spine instead of her stomach. The other three suddenly noticed the charge in the air and turned to watch the sparks.

"I just realized that you haven't even asked me for a dance this evening, Mr. Cullen. I do hope you haven't squandered your opportunity."

Surely he could scrape together enough money to bribe one more song out of an orchestra. Maybe Carlisle had some cash on him. It would be worth every penny.

Ж

It turned out that the orchestra was nowhere near finished for the evening. The party continued even as the parents and grandparents found reasons to shuffle off to their own homes.

In an unspoken show of solidarity, Emmett, Jasper and Edward monopolized the dances of "their" girls. Only Jasper had just cause to keep Alice to himself; some sharing would be necessary by the other two gentlemen. Alice was more than happy to release her new fiancé into the service of his comrades-in-arms as they defended their lady-loves.

It was during one of her down dances that Bella found herself in Emmett's oversized paws. "I can't say enough good things about Rosalie Hale. Jasper's been saying for weeks now that you two would be perfect for one another if you'd ever stop arguing over…nothing and everything. And Jasper and Alice are getting married. And Edward is…." Her sentence trailed off into a sigh which, in Emmett's mind, worked just as well as any adjective she could've articulated in its place.

She smiled a dreamy smile and looked over his shoulder at the handsome young man twirling Rose around the dance floor. "It just seems like my life was upside-down and inside-out until an hour ago. And now it's all just fallen into place."

Bella suddenly realized how naïve she sounded and her self-consciousness turned her cheeks deep pink. "I'm such a cliché…I just…"

Emmett hugged her tightly. "Just because it's a cliché doesn't mean it can't be true. I mean, those ideas are used over and over for a reason, right? I'm probably only saying so because I agree with you. Nothing could be more right than the way things are tonight. I haven't wrecked my chances with Rose, your parents don't know—"

"Don't say it, Em. It might not have to come to that."

The giant of a boy cursed his own stupid mouth. There was no reason to worry about tomorrow when tomorrow could be filled with trenches and smoking rifles on foreign soil. For a young man in love for the first time, an evening could not have been more surreally beautiful.

He wanted to make sure Bella's evening was tinted the same shade of rose. Her bubble would be burst long before his, he surmised.

"Of course not, sugar. Are you ready to show Rose and Edward how it's done?"

"I'm a little dizzy from the champagne; don't you let me fall!"

He would never let her fall if it were in his power to help it. It was mostly to get Rose back in his arms that he even let Bella dance with Edward.

By their fifth dance of the evening, Edward's hands already knew just where sit on Bella's waist. While low on the small of her back seemed preferable in theory, higher was better in practice. The back of her dress dipped in a sweeping arc between her shoulder blades. If he was patient, he could turn her to face the herd of chaperones and graze his thumb over her spine. She always shivered and her lashes might flutter closed for a moment.

Her warm skin just did things to him.

Every thought he formed about Bella and their budding…_something_ felt trite. It would have eased his mind tremendously to hear the same threadbare phrases peppering her thoughts or to know that she'd confessed the same sentiment to Emmett.

Around one in the morning, the six of them knew that the orchestra was about to pack it in. Alice whispered in Bella's ear, "I'll be right back."

She returned a few minutes later with her older cousin. "My mother says we can go for a walk along the bay as long as Tanya comes with us."

Bella was sleeping over with Alice; her parents were long gone. She didn't even have someone _to_ ask, had she wanted to. She didn't.

They were a few steps into the shadows of a giant live oak when a swarthy young man stepped into their path. Tanya jumped into his arms. "There you are. I promised I wouldn't keep you waiting all night."

Without so much as an introduction to the 'children,' she took his hand and walked away with him.

Alice smiled wickedly. "Laurent just moved here from New Orleans. They'll be a little while."

"Hopefully it'll take more than a little while." Rose snickered.

Bella didn't completely understand what she meant but her cheeks warmed anyway. Her hand found Edward's in the dark. Their eyes grew accustomed to only the moonlight again.

They paired off, the other two couples finding something very interesting on the periphery and wandering away to investigate, until it was just Bella and Edward.

He walked up on the grass and put his jacket on the ground.

Bella threw her shoes and stockings beside it and held out her hand. "Walk to the water with me."

His shoes joined hers on the ground. He rolled up his pants and followed her until their ankles were covered. "You should wear that color blue all the time. It suits you."

"Thank you. I like your hair with a part in it. It's very debonair."

Self-consciously he ran a hand through it, immediately regretting it when the pomade stuck to his fingers. "It's usually such a wreck. Rosie helped me."

"I'll thank her later." She regretted her boldness almost instantly and hushed.

There was a quiet lapping of water as Edward moved closer to her. He swept a strand of hair from her face. She closed her eyes and leaned into the touch. Though the hair was out of her vision, he couldn't bring his hand away.

Her heart was hammering away madly. But she wanted to touch him—and not in any prescribed-for-dancing, chaperone-appropriate way. She wanted to know what his face felt like, all smooth and shaved. Or the muscles on his back that rippled when he pulled the rigging on the boat.

Or his mouth. No mouth that made words so velvety could be anything but…_what?_ She wasn't exactly sure, but she knew she wanted to find out.

So she just reached up and put her hand on his face, rubbing the square of his jaw with her thumb. It seemed like a good start. He clenched his jaw so that the muscle would flex under her hand and she laughed softly when she realized that he was playing with her.

They stood very like that, not moving from the waist down. Girls like Bella Swan didn't take moonlit walks with boys who had no family, it didn't matter who had taken them under their wing. He'd already gotten more than he should've expected. Edward was afraid to kiss her because, in water up to his ankles, he was out of his depth.

Bella inched towards him, wondering if he even wanted her to, until she was close enough to feel the warmth radiating from him.

He decided that he didn't care if it was wrong and placed his lips softly to hers. Their movements were exquisitely slow, like honey dripping from a comb.

He thought she tasted like champagne.

She later remembered him tasting like salt.

Finally pulling his mouth away from hers, he whispered, "Let's get out of the water," and kissed her on the bridge of her nose.

To make sure she didn't get dirtied by the ground, he knelt on the grass and left his jacket for her, while she sank down and tucked her feet behind her. He arranged himself so that she was between his bent knees.

Before she could even decide how to sit, he leaned in and kissed her again. And for a long time, that was enough; whether or not she was comfortable didn't matter to her. They learned the curves and valleys of the other's lips, a landscape more important than any they'd ever known before.

Eventually, Bella threaded a hand—then two—into Edward's soft hair. That possessive caress stoked her simmering curiosity and she rose to her knees to lean into him. Their chaste, experimental kissing became desperate, full of friction.

It had dawned on Bella that she might never get this chance again. What if he joined the military with Jasper and Emmett or her parents found out and sent her away? What if he changed his mind about her?

Finally, he peeled his mouth from hers and whispered, "My knees hurt—I know yours must."

She smiled bashfully. "I hadn't noticed…but now that you mention it, I think there's an acorn or a stick under me."

He stretched out on his side and she followed suit, though still on his coat. She whispered, "Do you think we are the only ones nearby?"

"They'll be back soon."

Her hands couldn't stay away from him. They toyed with his buttons, tugged on his bowtie and traced his fingers. She knew that she didn't have to memorize him that night; he wasn't going to just disappear. That knowledge didn't keep her from trying.

He could tell that she was frenzied and pulled his mouth away from hers. She huffed.

"Come back."

"You seem kind of nervous. No, not nervous…_I'm_ nervous. You seem frantic, like you're in a hurry."

Her mouth dropped open. "Why? Why would _you_ be nervous?"

"Because I'm what could mess this up. I don't belong here, with families like yours, but Carlisle and Esme have been kinder to me than I could have ever asked them to be. Being here with you seems greedy."

He picked up her hand and began playing with her fingers, kissing them and winding them in his own.

Bella refused to acknowledge the gap in their social standing. She'd been successfully avoiding the topic all evening; why capitulate after so long? "It is. I'm very greedy and I'm not sure it isn't me who's getting more than they deserve."

He shook his head. He was only eighteen months older than Bella. She was definitely old enough to understand why cotton farmers' sons didn't marry into old money. He'd barely lived with Carlisle and Esme long enough for the blisters on his hands to have calloused over.

"Did you know that this is the first tuxedo I've ever worn? I'd never been to a party like that before."

"Then we're even, I guess." Her words were quiet.

"You've been to a party like that before…probably not long ago."

"But I've never kissed anyone before." She said it as if she assumed that he knew.

He didn't. "Aw, Bella. You make me wish I hadn't."

"Have you kissed _lots_ of other girls?"

"I don't want to talk about any other girl right now. I promise I'll tell you later if you let me pretend for now that they never existed."

She tipped her face to the side and looked at him with wide, faux-innocent eyes. "That might hurt Tanya's feelings, especially since she was nice enough to disappear."

"Why, you little…" He tickled her until she was gasping for breath, his hands across her stomach, his mouth on the base of her neck and her collarbone.

While she caught her breath, he put his arms around her, one hand at the base of her neck and the other between her shoulders, and leaned her back. When he thought she'd gotten enough of a breather, he put his mouth to hers again.

It was in that embrace that Emmett and Rose found them.

Emmett had the decency to cough as they approached. "Party's over, lovebirds. Big Daddy Brandon will be looking for his angel soon."

Bella giggled and leaned up to whisper in Edward's ear. "I'll definitely be hearing about this again." She pressed the sharply creased note she'd been carrying around all night for him into his palm. It was the first of many they exchanged over the next few months.

He smiled and slipped the paper into his trouser pocket before he murmured back, "I'll be hearing about it the whole way home."

Ж

Jasper left two months later, Emmett three months after that. Both of them had a wife to kiss goodbye. When Edward left in May, Bella was not allowed to ride with Carlisle and Esme to the train station.

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><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong>_ I've been plotting "Gatsbyward" on Twitter with Ms Ouiser and justduckie and ElizabethanTX and xoEMC and JAustenLover for months now. _I_

Thanks to MsOuiser, Brooke, justduckie (Clementine) and Denver Popcorn for their kickass prereading.

As always, let me know what you think.

xo


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: The Twilight Saga and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer.

Ж

**New York ~ June, 1922**

Jacob Black was too strikingly handsome not to be memorable, his raven hair and bronze skin standing out like exotic plumage among the muted pigeons of New York's social whirl. The fact that he'd never actually stood under the same roof as Edward Cullen was little impediment to Edward's memory of his face. A photograph of the boy—Charles Swan's nephew—graced the library in Mr. Swan's home on Mobile Bay.

Edward recognized Mr. Black from across the expansive lawn and dispatched a man to pluck Jacob from the sea of partygoers washing over Mr. Cullen's estate. Moments later they were in conversation in Edward's upstairs office.

They'd scarcely made their introductions when a butler entered the room apologetically.

"Mr. Cullen, Mr. Aro is on the line for you."

Mr. Cullen suppressed all but a twitch of a smile. "It's just 'Aro,' Jenks. And thank you."

"As you wish, sir."

He put the earpiece to his ear. "Cullen here."

From the doorway poor Jake had no idea how to feel about the polite exchange that had just occurred. Nor was he able to understand the half-conversation he was making a show of pointedly ignoring.

Mr. Cullen wrapped his hand over the end of the mouthpiece. "It is work, after all; thought it would be my mother. Can we meet Wednesday for lunch, sport? I'll be in town then."

"That suits me just fine, Mr. Cullen. Thank you for the hospitality."

"Edward. And I can't wait, Jake. I just can't wait."

As he descended the imposing staircase, Jake found himself wondering what kind of mother one expects a call from at one in the morning.

Ж

Their friendly lunch was a smashing success.

Edward was ecstatic but carefully arranged his face so that just a trace of a grin played upon his features. It was the face he'd been practicing for years, the one that made him more money than his business savvy. No one appeared more eternally amused by life than Mr. Cullen. He seemed to have more secrets to warm him from the inside out than Mona Lisa herself.

Jake was glad to have a new friend who didn't need a translator to understand his accent. Still, something he couldn't quite put his finger on made him wonder if Edward was having as good a time as he was.

"My accent isn't all _that_ thick."

"Jake, it's perfect. It sounds like home, my friend."

"Then you should meet my cousin Isabella. Hell, you should meet all my Alabama friends who live here."

"That would be a treat…a real treat. Not too many Southerners take to the bustle of New York City." He thought about it and then added, "I'm having another party Friday night. Bring them. I'd love a little slice—"

A ruckus punctuated by the dull thump of a body coming into sudden contact with something higher up on the hardness scale came from the back of the establishment. The racket either kept Jake from hearing the rest of Edward's statement or stopped his words cold.

Unperturbed, Edward smiled graciously and stood. "If you'll excuse me."

He walked towards the noise.

To one side of the kitchen entrance was a door and a lanky fellow Edward didn't recognize lounging in its frame. _Which would make him Seth._ "I'm afraid the chef's indisposed for the moment, sir."

"I'm Cullen. If you wouldn't mind…."

Straightening quickly, the man was all too happy to allow his new boss entrance.

"I should've—"

He held up a hand. "No apology necessary. I'd rather you stop me than let just anyone in."

Cullen walked through the door and the action came to a halt. In the middle of the room was a man perched on a bentwood chair too small for his frame. His wrists were tied to it.

Edward Cullen did not meet the seated man's eye. Instead, he toyed with a ladle he found hanging.

"We couldn't find a more appropriate time or place to take care of this than lunch? Did this fellow try to walk out on his tab?" He looked pointedly at a club propped against the seat, his accompanying gesture with the oversized spoon almost comical. "I ask because we have less medieval means of sorting problems like that here."

The other three men seemed dumbstruck. Mr. Cullen waited patiently for an answer, picking a breadcrumb from his lapel.

Finally one of the men answered. "We can take care of this later, sir. We've just had a hard time tracking this slippery sucker down and got a little carried away."

Before he could continue, he was interrupted. "I'm sure you have an ages-old family feud, or something equally ugly between you. But right now you're in the back room of _my_ restaurant, making _my_ patrons wonder about the happenings in the kitchen, making this _my_ problem to deal with.

"So here's what I'm going to do: this chap here—"

"Mr. Nu—"

Edward shook his head. "I don't need a name, thank you very much. We are going to settle his debt with Aro now." He turned to the bloody face at his hip and pulled the rag from his mouth. "Do you owe them money or goods?"

The man sucked in a gasping breath and muttered, "Money."

Cullen gave him a single nod and replaced the rag. "Well, that's easy enough. You can set up a payment schedule through me—and by me, I mean my friend Seth, whom I'll send in when I leave. I'll pay the amount you owe Aro up front.

"Until you repay me, you and my associate Seth can become friends."

The man jerked his head in the affirmative. He wasn't the smartest fellow in the world, but he knew a good deal when he saw one.

Edward addressed the hooligans who'd interrupted his lunch. "I have a guest, so I need to be on my way. But before I go, I need to make sure we understand one another. Please don't think that, because it might be convenient to where you happen to be battering one of Aro's clients, one of my establishments is _ever_ somewhere to bring an activity like this. Am I making myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Of course."

"Then have a lovely afternoon. And untie this poor chap…maybe clean him up before you leave. His chin is still bleeding on my floor."

Mr. Cullen walked back towards the main dining room, informing Seth of what he required on the way.

He seated himself beside Jake again with a smile to sell furniture to the homeless, wondering if saving that man's life was worth more dealings with Aro. "Kitchen rivalry. Mousse versus crème brulee. The brulee boys brought out their torches."

"I'm glad I didn't order the mousse, then."

"My feelings exactly. Before the emergency in the kitchen, we were talking about bringing some southern charm to one of my parties. I'd be just delighted if you'd extend an invitation to your friends."

As he was about to pat Jake on the shoulder, Cullen noticed a smear of blood on his hand. He grabbed a napkin with the other hand and wiped it off.

"I will certainly pass it on."

"Excellent. I'll send my driver for you around eight. Call me Friday to let me know how many."

"That's so much trouble."

"Once you see all the cars—and the bedlam when they leave—you'll understand. It's no trouble at all...in fact I'm probably saving myself some trouble as well. Can I interest you in a dessert? I promise you can order whatever you'd like and the kitchen staff will be pleased to make it."

"Oh, goodness no. I'll be asleep before I can get any work done. This has been a top-notch lunch, Edward. I can't believe I've never eaten here before."

"We'll do it again, Jake."

The gentlemen shook hands and said their farewells. Jake realized he'd never asked Edward where in the South he was from. His accent certainly didn't give it away.

On the walk to his office, between wondering about his new friend and looking forward to making a date for the party, Jake thought he saw Bella's husband scurry into a cab. But Michael Newton would never parade around New York City in a dirty coat, much less a torn one.

Ж

Jake had dinner with Jasper and Alice Whitlock that evening. It was less quiet than usual but interesting nonetheless. Alice had invited a young war widow, as well as Emmett and Rosalie McCarty.

No room with Emmett was ever described as quiet.

Over dessert, Jake extended the party invitation and a hush descended over the table. Because the name "Edward Cullen" meant nothing more to Leah Clearwater then the most lavish party she'd ever attended, she stopped speaking just a beat too late.

"…I've never met anyone who was actually invited to…." Flustered, she quickly took a gulp of her sweet tea.

Jasper trod carefully into the silence. "And this chap's name was definitely 'Edward Cullen'? He wasn't maybe 'Collin' or something similar?"

"Definitely 'Cullen' on the stationary with his phone number. I'd been in his office talking to him and a phone call cut us off. I walked back down to the party and, out of nowhere, a butler is tapping me on the shoulder with Cullen's phone exchange information."

Alice tried next. "What does he look like?"

"Tall, brown hair, nice-looking chap. All the ladies seem pretty fond of him even though he never had one on his arm. I never saw him at the party, come to think of it."

Leah spoke again. "He's devastating, Alice. Just the handsomest face I've ever seen. Always more polite than he has to be and eyes…."

Rose and Alice finished for her. "The color of the Gulf."

Leah looked confused. "I've never seen the Gulf of Mexico."

Alice's expression was almost apologetic. "No, sugar. It's what a friend of ours used to say."

Rose stood. "I'll call her. That way she can cry with you, Alice. She'll want to once she's done being angry."

Alice put her hand out to Rose. "Let's have some dessert first. I need a minute to let this digest."

As they turned to go to the kitchen, Leah jumped up. "I've been waited on all night by the pair of you. I can at least help with the coffee."

Jake waited until the door shut to ask who the hell Edward Cullen was to his cousin Bella.

Jasper fielded his query. "Edward and Bella were head-over-heels for one another just before I left for the war. We all assumed they would be married. But Edward's family didn't have much money and the Swans—well, they're 'The Swans.' You know how your uncle is about his reputation. Bella marrying a cotton farmer's son was out of the question.

"So he went off to war and told Bella to wait for him. And she did. She waited five years. Two years after the war was over, she'd gotten no word from him. Emmett and I had connections and asked around for him. No one had ever heard of him—he wasn't enlisted with any branch of the military. We thought he might have been killed.

"She finally gave up on fighting her parents and married Michael Newton."

Emmett snorted like an agitated horse. "Such a little weasel, that Newton kid. Riding his Daddy's coattails and bossing Bella around like a child."

Jasper shook his head. "Oh God, but she was just a shell. Mike knew her before she caved in on herself and didn't care. All he wanted was a pretty face to run his house and make more Newton-spawn."

Jake frowned. "They don't have any children."

Emmett and Rose were still hoping for a pregnancy. He knew about wanting a child. "I hate to say that not bearing a child is ever a mercy, but in this case, I'm not sad that Newton hasn't reproduced."

With narrowed eyes, Jasper looked at Jake. "Do you remember if you told him Bella Swan was your cousin?"

"I called her 'Isabella,' since I thought he didn't know her. I never said 'Swan' or 'Newton' that I can recall. You think there's a chance he doesn't know I'm her cousin? 'Cause I don't. I think he's been hoping someone who knows her would wander through.

"He called me up for no apparent reason and I kept wondering what he wanted. Now I know. He suggested I bring you all to a party as soon as I mentioned you, pounced on it."

"Well then, she doesn't have any business going. She's worlds more normal than she was when she got married—I think moving to New York was a good decision. Letting any piece of him back in can only be bad news. Very bad news." Emmett was suddenly protective of her.

Jasper was trying not to get too carried away. "It's her decision. Hers and Michael's. Maybe Alice will know how to approach it. She has a much better feel for that sort of thing than I do."

On cue, Alice swayed in bearing a tray of parfaits. "I'm sure that whatever you're referring to is nothing but flattering, Mr. Whitlock."

"I'd be hard pressed to come up with something unflattering to say about you, Mrs. Whitlock."

She placed a dish in front of him. "Don't touch yet. Rosie is bringing the whisky sauce."

Emmett bellowed. "Just bring the bottle, Rose!"

Ж

Over glasses of tea and plates of pecan pie the next day, Rose and Alice told Bella more about Jake's lunch with one Edward Cullen.

Bella yawned and moved the pie around on her plate. "This is one of the busiest cities in the world; it might not even be the Edward Cullen we all know. You all go to his party. I'm sure it's worth a visit just for curiosity's sake, if what Leah told you is true. I don't need to go."

Alice looked at Rose, out of ideas. Bella hadn't cracked. There had been no tears, no sadness, no regrets, not even a thrown glass. Before the boys went off to war, she would've thrown something and demanded they go to him right away, if only to yell at him for stringing her along.

Now she'd been numb for so long, those feelings didn't even know how to fight their way to the surface.

A sudden clatter raised Rose and Alice's hopes for the existence of that girl.

"I've dropped my fork. I'll go grab another, Rose."

Once Bella left, Alice put her head in her hands. "It's him. She knows it; we know it. Why doesn't that even cause a reaction? It's like trying to ring a cracked bell. It's just…_off_. This doesn't even sound like her."

The two women sat quietly, ignoring the facts they both knew. Rose acknowledged them first.

"Mike's gone and done something with his money, I know he has. I heard him telling her to call Charlie and he never wants her to talk to her parents unless he needs money. Maybe it's too much at once. Just keep an eye on her."

The two women quieted as Bella walked back in.

"So what are you two going to wear to this gala?"

Rosalie McCarty had a reputation for her low tolerance of bullshit. She had feigned acceptance of Bella's far longer than anyone would have expected but Bella's question pushed her over the edge. She forced Bella's hand.

"I have a red dress Emmett hasn't seen yet. Alice is borrowing that beaded black one that shows far more than my kneecaps. Can we get ready with you, like we used to do? I'll bring Heidi; she's a magician with hair, even in this humidity."

"I don't want to go, Rose. It's so maudlin. What if it _is_ the Edward we knew? You know how I hate a scene."

Her impersonal, past-tense way of referring to him put the finishing flourish on Rose's irritation. "You are grown and married. So what if it is him? Even if it is _your_ Edward, it would only devolve into something tacky if you let it but you seem to have yourself perfectly under control. And I tend to agree with what you said earlier. It probably _isn't_ him."

"I'm not interested in some carnival in a rich man's backyard, anyway. I won't go, I don't think."

"Go where, Isabella?" Michael Newton liked to make sure his friends knew that he was a man of leisure, working only occasionally and at his own bidding, so he frequently made appearances during the week where he might be seen by those who mattered.

He was dressed for polo, freshly scraped and sweat-covered. Alice sniffed and expected the horse to stride in behind him.

With a wave of her hand, Bella answered casually. "To a party with them tomorrow night. I hate big parties, Michael."

"You never used to, Isabella. We'll go. You need to get out of the house. Tricking Southern plants into growing this far north is not a social life. You need to get out of that silly greenhouse—leave it to the gardener—and out into the world. Where's this party we'll be attending?"

Alice spoke up. "At Mr. Cullen's place, across the Sound. Have you been to one of his famous parties before, Michael?"

His alarm didn't go unnoticed by Bella's friends, though they decided later that they didn't know what to make of it. "Cullen? You don't say. I haven't been to one of his parties, but I have been to some of his restaurants. The food is incredible. We'll have to go."

Bella opened her mouth to object again.

"No, Bella. I'm tired of making excuses for my absent wife. The discussion of whether you are going is over." He wanted to make sure this Mr. Cullen knew exactly with whom he was dealing.

Rose, upset that pushing the matter had ended this way, changed the subject with a story about Emmett and the new butler.

Alice watched Bella's glass shake all the way to her lips.

Rose felt guilty that her manipulation had gone awry and Alice couldn't stand to see her friend on the precipice of another freefall. The two of them hauled Bella into the city under the guise of purchasing a few "necessary things." They acted as if Mr. Newton had already been informed and sent a driver around to pick up her bag.

The remainder of Thursday passed in a haze of wine and room service for Bella.

She cried, on and off, until the next morning. She mourned the loss of her love, and the shoddy replacement that was taking on water faster than she could bail. How could one summer have altered her life so dramatically?

"I can't face him like this. He'll think I gave up on him. I did; I gave in."

Her friends couldn't convince her otherwise.

"Bella, you have a beautiful life…simply charmed—"

Bella cut her friend off before she had the chance too add that no one believed she gave up on Edward. "I think we all know better, Rose. I live in the muck, mired down in my Newtonian façade, throwing more glitter on the mud every time it gets a little too real for me. My parents objected to Edward's lack of net worth but not to Michael's debt. The irony."

Around midnight, they finally fell asleep. All three of them tucked into one fluffy bed, just like the summer of 1916.

Author's Note:


	3. Chapter 3

_**Disclaimer:** The Twilight Saga and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. _The Great Gatsby_ and all its splendor, the creations of Fitzgerald. _

_It's only fitting they be introduced. Edward was, after all, just a Lost Generation boy hoping to one day deserve his love._

* * *

><p>The next evening, in emerald green silk, Bella descended the stairs to the group of partygoers.<p>

"I should send you shopping with Rose and Alice more often." With those words, Michael turned and hopped into the car with the boys, the last quivering trace of Bella's optimism disappearing with him.

"Was that a compliment?" Leah asked innocently.

Rose and Alice realized just how not-so-innocent their new friend was.

Bella produced a flask from her handbag. "Am I the only one in need of some courage this evening?"

"No, sugar. You're gonna need to pass that around." Rose was pleased to see something—anything—affecting her friend enough to make her need a nip of gin.

The drive to Cullen's place was shorter than Bella was comfortable with. He'd been so close and she hadn't even felt it. Shouldn't she have felt something? Wasn't that how these things worked? The air shimmered and the light at the end of a strange dock called to you inexplicably, if you believed the novels.

And yet Bella had existed ignorantly across a mere sliver of water from her Edward. If she'd really wanted to, she could have swum the distance.

She began remembering the kind of want that had propelled her around Mobile Bay for him. The thin sliver narrowed even more.

Their chauffeur opened the car door, severing her train of thought. The girls stepped out in a juniper cloud and the boys in a literal one.

"No wonder you four wanted to ride together. How many cigars did you manage to burn through in that short ride, Emmett?"

"Just the one."

Rose rolled her eyes at her husband.

"What? I shared the other three. And I don't know why _you_ feel so free to hound me; you smell like a Christmas tree."

She leaned over and whispered something filthy in his ear about being the angel mounted on top. He whispered back that no angel left the house in that shade of red.

They ascended the grand steps and entered Mr. Cullen's home as if they owned it themselves. Rose didn't allow her girlfriends any gawking, however gorgeous the packed entry and ballroom they forded to get to the festivities outside. Bella didn't need to be overawed; the jitters she arrived with were sufficient for any heartbroken girl, thank you very much. Rosalie guided the other three away from the throngs and towards the sparkling bar, gilt-tipped orchestra and gleaming guests.

Their husbands followed a few paces behind, unaware that gawking wasn't permitted.

Leah caught on quickly to Rose's jig and, with a twist and a bob that made the fringe of her dress wrap around her curves, grabbed Michael by the hand. "Your wife says that you are the best dancer on the East Coast. I have a hard time believing that."

Never one to back down from a dare, it didn't occur to him that anyone with a face so beguiling could be disingenuous. Michael followed her to the dance floor as if she'd pulled him by the golden ring in his purebred snout.

Partygoers shifted like the sands, blown by nothing at all and everything at once. One moment, the glittering beads of a skirt were tossed and abused by knobby knees; the next, they were smothered between damp skin and brocade beneath the weight of two bodies. Twinkling crystal, half-emptied of its potion, awaited fingers that would never return. Those fingertips had moved on to other glasses and other potions.

Peals of laughter decorated every conversation, declaring it beautiful regardless of its depth. The exchanges were seldom more than shallow puddles but they were thoroughly entrancing to guests dressed to the nines.

Mrs. Newton, unlike her husband, was slow to be tempted to dance. She watched warily for any sign of her old beau. After a second sloe gin fizz, she allowed Alice to pull her onto the parquets to Charleston. Satisfied that his wife wouldn't be an embarrassing wallflower, Mr. Newton stepped away to sniff out a game.

The four girls flitted from spot to spot on the lawn. They danced; they drank champagne; they walked to the water and nibbled caviar.

Two stories above the fray, Edward Cullen watched it all. He'd just been informed by Seth that his latest debtor was currently sitting at the poker table, spending money he couldn't possibly have. After another moment pondering what to do with the man, he turned away from the glass.

As they walked back towards the merriment, Bella wondered if she'd been looking so hard that she'd imagined the familiar silhouette retreating from an upstairs window.

The party was in full swing but she'd already begun calculating how soon she could acceptably request to be taken home to her bed.

She found a quiet spot on the porch.

Edward watched her from just a few feet away for most of a song. If he took a single step forward, he could reach out a hand and stroke her hair. He wanted to and, more than once, his arm floated up to do so without permission.

She was so much more serenely beautiful than he remembered, curved against the column, set against the writhing glitz below, looking for him. He wondered how he'd gone so long without her, his peace amidst a seething, tawdry world. No matter the battle raging around him, it was her face, her voice, that kept him focused on getting back safely.

The striking green dress cut into a deep "V" in the back. He imagined following the slope of the fabric with his finger, tracing from her shoulder blade down to the dip and back up again.

Bella shivered.

Finally he decided they'd waited long enough.

Edward took two steps forward and allowed his face to hover beside her neck. "I haven't asked you for a dance this evening. I hope I haven't squandered my opportunity."

Her own words, murmured in hauntingly familiar tones, washed over Bella in a kaleidoscope of half-registered emotions. She wondered if there was any shade of feeling left without representation. Democratically, she chose none. It seemed so much easier than all of them.

"I'm sure the orchestra waits for you to beckon. They would let you have whatever you wished."

He nodded at the band leader. "I'm only here for you."

Without asking—he never had before—he picked up her hand and led her to the dance floor. She never could tell him no.

The descent from the portico to the rest of the dancers felt infinite; Edward's hand itched to hold her. All those years of waiting suddenly seemed so short in comparison. The mind was a tricky place like that, full of quicksand and disappearing oases. Maybe it was heat causing the transparent rippling he saw when he looked directly at her.

When he turned her in to dance, they faced one another finally. She pulled in a resigned breath and her chin dropped to her chest.

"I don't know what to say, Bella. But I'll tell you anything you want to know. Just ask. Please ask."

She looked back up, the corners of her eyes ornamented with a sparkle that caused him shame. "Not tonight."

His hand tightened at her waist, clinging to the center of his universe for all that he was worth. He mistook her defeat; his heart broke because he'd squandered his chance for more than this. _She __doesn__'__t __want __to __know __where __I__'__ve __been, __she __only __wants __to __pretend __for __an __evening __and __move __on. __I __must __convince __her __otherwise._

If this was their last twirl, it should be a rosary worth running his fingers over every day, and that fear, the fear that maybe he couldn't change her mind, sharpened the points spurring him along.

They spun and swayed, gliding through the first song. Being held by him was a form of torture for her as well. They were as close as seemed appropriate and yet, if he would just pull her closer, she wouldn't have to suffer through his eyes watching her so reverently. She felt so guilty, but not guilty enough to ask him to let go.

His thumb rubbed up and down the curve of her waist, teasing a memory from her skin. The gentle pressure of that hand on the small of her back as they moved around the dance floor brought back instincts too strong to repress, even under the mass of her husband.

For the first time that night, Bella was thankful for the happy racket of partygoers. It ruled out conversation and left her to her own thoughts. She wasn't ready to talk to Edward yet, anyway. She wanted to be worshipped for a moment longer.

She began to think she'd only believed she lost her innocence in consenting to become Mrs. Newton. That had been nothing compared to what she knew she'd feel when her Edward found out what she'd done.

Every step on the dance floor felt like the culmination of a sacred longing, an answer to a prayer even amidst the debauchery.

By the second song, Bella wondered how she could let his driver take her home. She felt like she was home. The nightmare of the last few years was just that and she could wake up at any moment.

A tide of awareness washed through the dance floor, and then the grounds at large, bouncing from tittering girls to tottering drunks, spilling from the mouths of the less discreet.

Glasses were adjusted. "Is that—?"

Judgment was meted out. "But with whom…I mean, she's exquisite, but there are dozens of beauties here."

Seeds of doubt were planted. "It can't be. I just heard him in the library and he never dances."

But not even the fiction of rumor could conjure a dream more lovely or fraught with danger than the one Bella found herself navigating.

Her wake-up call arrived in the possession of a gangly man, barely more than a teenager.

"Mr. Cullen? I'm so sorry to interrupt but it seems we have a problem." He indicated the tuxedoed gentleman behind him.

Cullen was thoroughly angered at himself because he didn't recognize the chap until he saw the chin gash. It was no longer bleeding.

He didn't want to let go of Bella—God only knew when her husband would return to take her home—but he couldn't expose her to trash like this.

He turned to excuse himself, summoning every ounce of courage he possessed to choke out the desperation already creeping back in. He could come right back to her, he kept reminding himself; she was no longer an ephemeral glow to pine for night after night. "I'll make sure we run into one another again. It's been a singular pleasure. I just need to see about getting one of my guests home safely."

Before Bella could respond, her husband took care of it. "If I am leaving, my wife is leaving with me."

As the situation dawned on Edward, Bella introduced him to her husband, Michael Newton.

Mr. Cullen cursed his own magnanimity. His good deed would not go unpunished.

Ж

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: I just can't leave Gatsbyward alone. Let me know what you think of him.<strong>


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